


Whipped

by ostentatiouslyrealistic



Series: cup of hot chocolate [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 02:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11841828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ostentatiouslyrealistic/pseuds/ostentatiouslyrealistic
Summary: "Fuck," Lance hisses, and then slowly untangles himself, freezing when Keith whines and pulls him closer. From the periphery, he sees Pidge shake her head and using his free hand, flips her off."Whipped," she whisper-sings, and he shakes his hand to emphasize the giant 'fuck you' he's throwing at her. Finally, when he's free, he leans forward, pressing a light kiss against Keith's forehead."Sweet dreams," he whispers.--5 times Lance kisses Keith. And the one time Keith kisses Lance.





	Whipped

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Voltron fic, and I've been so excited to use the 5+1 trope! I hope you enjoy it :)

 

1.

"There's nothing to do," Lance whines, flopping back onto the bed, head hanging over the edge. He looks to the other three lounging around the room, frown deepening with gravity.

"You know," Pidge starts, not bothering to look away from her laptop, "Maybe you should start your paper. Ya' know, the one due on Friday?"

Hunk hums in agreement, eyes glued to his textbook as he chews on the tip of his pencil. It should be no surprise that those two wouldn't be down to do anything, and he releases a pent up sigh, shortened by his upside down position and awkward posture. Honestly, if Lance has learned anything throughout his two years in college, it's that not everything has to be school related. Now, if only Pidge and Hunk could get onto the same page.

His eyes drift over to the figure hunched in the beanbag at the corner of the room, book in hand and earphones plugged in. Rolling over onto his stomach, Lance watches as Keith bobs his head to the beat of the music, his tiny ponytail bouncing with the movement. The hairstyle never fails to amuse him. Who even has a mullet these days?

"Whipped." He hears someone mutter, and before he can stop himself, he yelps back, "I am not!" This causes both Hunk and Pidge to actually tear their eyes from their work to stare at him. Well, Pidge smirks at him as she pushes her glasses up, and Hunk only raises a brow before shaking his head.

"You totally are." It's Hunk who says this and Lance sits up, folding his arms indignantly.

"Your best friend title has been revoked. I now demote you to 'close friend'." At this, Hunk rolls his eyes, but his fond smile betrays the effect. A groan draws all their attention to the corner of the room, and Lance feels his stomach drop as Keith yanks off the earphones. Silently, he prays that he heard none of that.

Pidge whips her head around and gives him a knowing look. He scowls back just as Keith turns to face them.

"What?" he asks, voice husky from lack of use, and Lance feels something unpleasantly pleasant flutter in the pit of his belly. Rather than answer, he faces off to the side. Something suspiciously like a snicker comes from one of his friends, and he's willing to bet his entire tuition that it came from Pidge.

"Nothing. Just Lance being Lance," Hunk answers easily.

"Ah," Keith hums, as if it's a natural occurrence.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lance squawks, swinging his legs over the edge. Honestly speaking, he feels no sense of offense—why would he? It's Keith. Wow, maybe he's just _a little_ whipped. The boy in question shrugs, and Lance stands, stretching his arms up. After a series of satisfying pops, he slouches forward in relief.

"Dude, that's gross," Pidge mutters, "No one wants to hear that." Ignoring her, he heads for the door, only pausing when his hand is on the knob.

"I'm gonna get snacks. Anyone wanna come?" Hunk looks up, but he seems torn between figuring out the multiple physics equations in his book and going for food. Even if he's been demoted, Lance still feels sympathy towards his friend.

"Buddy, no worries, I've got you." Hunk sighs and gives him a thumbs up while Pidge just shakes her head and calls out, "Get me M&M's."

"As if I need a sugar high gremlin to watch out for." Lance just barely avoids the eraser thrown at his head.

"I'll go," Keith says as he stands, "I can't read anymore." Lance hopes no one can hear his heartbeat quicken or notice his hand tighten on the knob. If he tries hard enough, maybe he can direct his blush somewhere else.

"Let's go, mullet."

"Don't call me that."

 

\--

 

Lance shoves a bag of chips onto the growing pile of junk food and scans the shelf for more, eyeing the bag of Doritos at the end of the aisle, when something drags his attention from the savory snacks.

"Can I help you with anything?" Oh, Lance knows that sultry tone, and he silently chuckles, ducking his head so that his hands cover his growing smile. Lucky guy, lucky gu—

"Um, no. I'm just browsing around." Wait, that's Keith's voice. The smile quickly drops from his face, and he stands straight, and sure enough, in the aisle next to his, he sees a familiar mullet.

"Are you sure? You seem a little lost."

Lance scoffs, amusement fading into something ugly. Gripping the basket handle with more vigor than necessary, he strides into the aisle with purpose. The sight before him causes a flurry of irritation and worry to spark up until it's a burning swirl of discomfort and jealousy. The girl is standing way to close for comfort, evident by the way Keith's face scrunches with unease.

As if moving on impulse, he's suddenly there, pushing the basket into Keith's hands.

"Here you go, babe." Keith's expression changes to one of relief until Lance steps up, arm sliding around his waist. Has he always been that slim? Lance stores that little piece of information into the back of his brain.

"Wha—babe—?"

"I got what you wanted," Lance interrupts, and he throws a quick glance at the girl, who's furiously blushing in embarrassment and anger. He knows it's petty, but he can't help it—leaning forward to press a lingering kiss to Keith's flushed cheeks. Man, he hopes Keith can't feel his heartbeat galloping into the sunset. That'd be embarrassing and an obvious giveaway to Lance's feelings.

Something catches his eye, and the devious streak his mama had always scolded him for comes into play. Turning his head, he schools his expression into one of pleasant surprise.

"Oh, good. You found the condoms. We're completely out of lube." At this point, Keith's face is on fire, and the girl turns on her heels, stalking away. When she's out of sight, Lance internally breathes a sigh of relief. Then the realization of what he's done prompts a fiery heat to rise to his face, and he wrenches his arm away from Keith, silently mourning the warmth by his side and turns to cough into his hand.

"Sorry 'bout that. You looked like you needed help, and she was coming onto you pretty hard, and I know you're gay—"

"Lance—"

"—clearly uncomfortable, and her pickup lines were crap. I mean, come on, there were other totally better things to say—"

"Lance!"

He stops, breathing in deeply when his eyes meet Keith's, and he's surprised by the amusement and tenderness in his gaze.

"Thank you." His eyes are a beautiful shade of violet that he can't seem to tear his gaze away from, and the blush is still high on his cheeks, a gentle blossoming red that compliments his pale skin.

Nevermind, Lance is _really_ whipped.

"No problem," he mutters, reaching for the lube. Keith makes a choked noise, "What are you doing?"

"Well, she thinks we're going to have hot, gay sex when we get home, so why not make the story more believable. Plus," Lance leans in closely, "don't look, but she's glaring at us." The flush on Keith's face deepens immensely, and he turns away. With him distracted, Lance swoops down to take the basket, throwing in the lube and ignoring Keith's protest, as he makes for the cash register.

He avoids the cashier's eyes when he scans the lube, opting to pull out his credit card to pay for everything. Keith comes up behind him, "I'll pay you back later."

Lance waves him off, "No worries, I've got this." Taking the bag, he's forced into giving an awkward smile at the knowing look on the cashier's face. Silently, they both leave and head back.

 

\--

 

"Here," he mutters, throwing the bag into the middle of the room. Like the animals they are, Pidge and Hunk dive into the pile.

"You got like three different flavors of Lay's. Best. Friend. Ever," Hunk sighs, popping a bag open. Pidge digs through the bag and makes a wounded sound, "Where are my M&M's?"

"Shit, I forgot."

She glares at him fiercely and rolls her eyes, diving back into the bag to scavenge for whatever else there may be. Suddenly, the rummaging stops, and she looks up, a mixture of interest, incredulity, and amusement marring her face. Something is clutched in her hands, and Lance feels the beginning of dread bubble up from deep within the pit of his stomach.

"And why is there a bottle of lube?"

Hunk chokes.

 

 

2.

"Guys, it's snowing!" Pidge's voice rings across the library, and a sharp glare from the librarian isn't enough to stop the commotion from blowing up in the crowded room. Students, half dead from cramming for finals, eye the window with newfound interest.

Lance is one of the few, and he catches sight of the fluttering white fluff. Of course, they're beautiful, a swirling mess of chaotically striking flakes, and they're a wonderful reprieve from the headache he's sure he's going to nurse for the next few hours...maybe days. With a wistful sigh, he turns back to his open textbook when he catches a movement from his peripheral.

Keith is staring out the window, head propped up on a hand, evidently ignoring the books scattered along the table. Violet eyes follow the flakes as they pirouette along the wind in a brilliant, silent show, and Lance finds himself softening, a warm sensation blossoming throughout his chest in direct contrast to the chill present in the library. Keith sighs, the motion catching his eye as his gaze drifts down to his lips, a pale pink that he's sure will taste sweet.

Suddenly, a wheezing, hacking cough interrupts his wandering eyes, and they snap to Hunk, who looks as if he's one step away from sure death. Pidge snickers, throwing Lance a knowing smirk as she offers Hunk a tissue.

 _Whipped_ , she mouths at him, and he scowls at her, eyes narrowing petulantly at her know-it-all grin. Then he turns back, startling when his eyes meet violet ones. He blinks rapidly, heart starting that annoying _ba-boom-ba-boom_. He's one hundred percent certain that Keith will give him heart arrhythmia one day.

 _What_ , he mouths, cocking his head in, what he hopes is, a teasing manner. In response, Keith narrows his eyes and pointedly looks down, but that doesn't stop Lance from seeing the rising, bright flush at the base of his neck.

And just like that, they all go back to studying and internally dying.

 

\--

 

"I'm freezing. What the fuck?" Lance mutters, shoving his hands underneath his armpits as he attempts to trudge through the snow. How three hours is enough to pile up this much cold nonsense is beyond him. Even though he's gone through this the past two years, he's never fully prepared for the full effects of northern winter. Varadero's never like this, and he prides himself on being a summer boy, aka not a big fan of winter.

"You know, it wouldn't be an issue if you had just checked the weather this morning," Keith says, though it's muffled by the giant scarf wrapped around his neck. It's adorable, enough to give his heart a tight squeeze, but it's also thankfully too cold for Lance to blush at the image.

"Well, no one wakes up at the ass crack of dawn," he retorts with a huff, and he watches, dismayed, as his words escape in a visible grey cloud.

"Still, you can check before you leave for class."

"Keith," Lance starts, eyeing his friend from the corner of his eye, "I have other things to do in the morning."

"Like?" He can see his brow raise, but that doesn't deter him.

"Like, looking good for the new day." It's not audible, but he can practically feel the sigh that Keith breathes at his response. The conversation stops there, and Lance continues shivering. He eyes Keith, all warm and snug in his giant maroon jacket and beige scarf, and decides _fuck it._

He pitches to the side, wrapping his arms around the other boy, reveling a little in the muffled grunt Keith huffs. Tucking his face into the scarf, he buries his nose into the soft fabric, breathing in deeply. By now, he's sure that the frozen butterflies in his stomach have defrosted and are going wild with adrenaline.

"Hey!" Keith protests. Lance only holds on tighter, "You're warm."

"Lance," Keith drags out his name, but he doesn't make a move to push Lance off. Instead, he gradually relaxes, and to Lance's surprise, he grabs hold of his hands, intertwining their fingers and shoving their hands into his front pockets. Lance makes a sound of happiness, burying his face deeper into the scarf.

They stumble and laugh the rest of the way home.

 

\--

 

"Pidge and Hunk say they'll be back in a bit," Lance says, stepping over the books scattered on the floor, careful not to spill the hot chocolate clutched in his hands. Keith looks up, reaching up to take the red mug.

"Shiro says he's going to come over next weekend with Allura. He wants to know if you guys are busy then." Lance shrugs, carefully lowering himself to the ground, situating himself near the other boy, and cradles the blue mug close to his chest.

"I feel like I should be free. My first final isn't until the Wednesday after. You?" Keith rubs his fingers mindlessly over the ceramic, "I only have two finals and a paper, so I'm going to be good." He takes a sip from the mug, pulling away with whipped cream stuck on his upper lip and the tip of his nose. Stifling a laugh, Lance gestures to his own upper lip, and Keith cocks his head in confusion.

"Nice mustache, mullet." Keith scoffs a laugh, reaching up to wipe it off with the back of his hand.

"You—missed—a spot," Lance vaguely points to his face, and Keith rubs at the spot more vigorously. Oh, he feels his heart skip a beat, and his smile softens. When he rolls his eyes, he catches sight of something above them, and they widen before switching to Keith, who's still rubbing at his upper lip. Lance reaches over, a hand cupping his face, and Keith freezes, eyes immediately meeting Lance's bright gaze.

"Here, let me," he offers, moving in close. As he draws his face closer, he sees that Keith's face has flushed, and he's now a bright scarlet. Then his violet eyes squeeze tightly shut. It's _so, so_ endearing.

And when their lips are within breadth's width of each other, Lance tilts his head up and licks the whipped cream off of his nose. At that, the other boy's eyes fly open and he moves to shove him away. Before he can, Lance takes the chance to surge forward and press a chaste kiss onto his nose. Then he leans away, eyes shining with amusement.

Keith is glaring at something that's distinctively _not_ Lance. If it had been anyone else, they would have thought he was annoyed or angry, but this is _Lance_ , and he can read that Keith is just flustered. His grin widens, and he takes a large swig of hot chocolate, allowing the dollop of whipped cream to stick onto his face.

"You can return the favor if you'd like. Since—" he points up at the mistletoe hanging above them. Keith glares even harder at the offending object.

All is interrupted when the lock to the apartment jiggles, and Pidge and Hunk barge in, allowing a gust of freezing air into the room. Instinctively, they scoot closer to each other.

"Fuuuckkkk, it's cold," Pidge hisses, furiously rubbing her hands together after dumping her books onto the kitchen counter. Then her eyes meet theirs, and she purses her lips, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"So, are we sharing body heat now to save electricity?"

Hunk yells, "Group hug!" Then he promptly scoops Pidge up, ignores her screeching, and proceeds to launch them both over the couch to tackle the other two up in a warm embrace.

 

 

3.

In all fairness, it _is_ finals week.

And Lance finds himself secluded in the deepest corner of the library he can find, surrounded by stacks of notes, an open textbook, scattered highlighters and pens, and two empty cans of that unhealthy, sugary energy drink that he reserves for this specific week. His phone is on lockdown, and he finds it harder and harder not to flip it over and check the various social media platforms he wastes countless hours on.

But he can't do that now, so he steels himself and shoves the device into his backpack. Sighing deeply, he turns back to the book, eyes somewhat unfocused. He reads _is the historical accumulation_ and _However, the idea stems from_ before he realizes that he's completely skipped two full lines of text. And then he groans for the fiftieth time that night, head making an audible smack when his forehead collides with the table.

When he opens his eyes, he blinks slowly, reaching up to rub the gritty feeling from his lashes. And then he realizes with a slow, creeping dread that he had fallen asleep.

"Shit, shit," he curses and wildly looks around. Well, shit. The library has just about cleared out, and the windows are dark, shadowed by night. "Fuck," he groans. He must have completely knocked out.

It's then that he realizes there's something soft wrapped around his shoulders, and when he turns to get a better look, his senses are automatically assaulted by _Keith_. His signature cropped, red jacket is hanging off of him. Lance peers around. He's definitely not here, so he grabs the sides of the jacket, yanking it closer to his face as he breathes in the heady smell.

Breathing out a small laugh, he stifles his smile and begins to pack up. He's done studying tonight.

 

\--

 

The trek back to the apartment is a little daunting at night when campus is practically dead. Luckily, Pidge and Hunk are also just heading back, and Lance meets them outside of the library.

"I'm dead. Deceased. Gone. Done for. Guys," Pidge turns to the other two, "Make sure my gravestone reads 'Vanquished by finals.'" Hunk nods, and Lance is too tired to do anything else but scoff.

"Never mind. 'Decimated by finals' is just as good."

Lance rolls his eyes, "Make up your mind, Pidge."

"I'll have you know—wait," she pauses, tilting her head up. The light from the streetlamps reflect on her glasses, hiding her eyes from sight. Hunk stops shuffling and turns to look down at the other two. Lance only stares back at Pidge, the bags on his eyes feeling heavy and weighed down.

"Is that—Keith's jacket?" Lance shrugs, "Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't." The high collar pokes out from underneath his own giant jacket that he's thrown on over Keith's.

Hunk doesn't look surprised. "Aw, that's sweet of him. He came looking for us and asked where you were, so I said, 'he's probably in that little corner of the library, ya' know, the one he uses to sleep rather than go to class.'"

"—And then he left you his jacket when you most likely fell asleep. God, Lance, when are you going to ask the boy out?" Pidge resumes walking, ignoring Lance's spluttering. Hunk only shrugs and continues to move forward.

"Guys!" Lance calls out, scrambling forward when he regains control of his body.

 

\--

 

The light to the living room is still on when they arrive home, much to Lance's surprise. It's nearly two in the morning. Even more surprising is the figure that's sitting cross legged on the floor, slumped over the coffee table.

"Well, I'm gonna go knock out. G' night guys!" Pidge yawns, holding a hand up as she makes her way towards her and Keith's shared room. Hunk rubs his eyes and gestures down at Keith, "You want me to carry him to bed or..." The question trails off, and Lance waves his hands dismissively.

"No worries. I've got it."

Giving him a grateful, albeit tired, smile, Hunk heads off to bed. Lance moves closer to the sleeping boy, kneeling next to him. Looking over him, he gives a fond smile at the sight, eyeing his hair as it curls slightly at the nape of his neck, and wonders if it's as soft as it seems. On impulse, he reaches over to brush against the strands, marveling at how delicate the strands are and remembers that he's supposed to help take him to bed. So he moves his hand to Keith's shoulder and lightly shakes him, resigned at the fact that he has to disturb his peaceful slumber.

"Hey, sleeping beauty, that hair's a little outdated, don't you think?" Keith groans, turning his head. His eyes squeeze shut tightly, nose scrunching and mouth pursing at the disturbance, and then his lashes flutter as he slowly opens his eyes. Lance is sure that his heart has stopped beating at this point.

"What?" He lifts his head, evidently still groggy with sleep. Lance's hand finds Keith's and he tugs on it, fingertips running over the soft fabric of his fingerless gloves. Keith allows his arm to be slung over Lance's shoulders, and the taller boy hefts him up, stumbling slightly when Keith wobbles on his feet. He buries his face into Lance's shoulder, groaning a garbled protest.

"Come on," Lance says, and they both stumble into Keith's room, both nearly falling flat on their faces when Lance pulls forward to shut off the living room lights. The slight glow from the other room is the only indication that Pidge is still awake, and she blearily looks up from her phone, raising her brow when she sees them. He ignores her and drops Keith onto the bed, not expecting to be pulled along, and they fall with an ungraceful flop onto the mattress.

"Oomph," he wheezes, clamping his mouth shut to stifle the harsh gasp from surprise. Right now, Keith is dead weight, and his elbow digs into Lance's stomach. Lance lies next to him, catching his breath as Keith shuffles around and throws his leg over the other boy.

"Fuck," Lance hisses, and then slowly untangles himself, freezing when Keith whines and pulls him closer. From the periphery, he sees Pidge shake her head and using his free hand, flips her off.

"Whipped," she whisper-sings, and he shakes his hand to emphasize the giant 'fuck you' he's throwing at her. Finally, when he's free, he leans forward, pressing a light kiss against Keith's forehead.

"Sweet dreams," he whispers.

 

 

4.

There's nothing to watch. Lance lounges on the couch, head held up by a fist as the only exercise he engages in is using his thumb to flip through multiple channels. Soon, even holding himself up gets tiring and he gives up, letting his arm fall and his head hit the soft cushion. The fabric presses against his cheek and when he inhales, he smells popcorn and a hint of spilled coffee.

_"He is not the fath—"_

_"—forecasts today predict—"_

_"—but then Johnny wouldn't—"_

_"—natural predators are now—"_

He finally settles on a documentary about marine life, momentarily reminiscing about his time surfing whenever he returns home and experiencing a sinking feeling when he remembers that it's dead in the middle of winter and that he's not at home.

The jiggling of the doorknob breaks his train of thought, and he looks up just as something slams into the door, rattling the hinges and causing him to jump about a foot into the air. Lance cautiously stands, throwing the remote onto the couch, where it nearly falls, and he has to swoop down before it can clatter onto the ground. The doorknob jiggles again, and Lance leaps back, holding his fists up in defense.

Suddenly, the door bursts open, and Lance leaps back and he might have screamed just a little, though he'll deny it till his dying breath. Keith lumbers into the room, one hand clutching his arm, and though he's trying really hard, Lance can easily see that he's limping.

"Dude, what happened?" He scurries forward, gripping Keith's shoulders and pulling him upright. His face isn't as bad. The beginnings of a black eye mar his face, and Lance leans in closer for a better look. He lifts a finger and gently pokes at the bruise, and Keith hisses, automatically pulling away.

"Nothing." Of course he'd say 'nothing.' Lance rolls his eyes and leads him to the couch, gently pushing down until Keith's sitting. "Yeah, nothing, my ass," he mutters, scanning him for any other bodily injuries.

"Yeah, your ass is nothing," Keith scoffs, wincing as Lance's hand ghosts over his arm.

"I'll let that one go since you're injured and probably  very confused and concussed," he says and stands with a groan, "I'll get some ice."

"Sure, sure, whatever helps you sleep at night." Lance pretends not to hear the comment and resists the urge to reply with something that probably won't be as witty or sharp. Pursing his lips, he silently mimics Keith's words, face scrunching unattractively as he searches the freezer for ice. For a good moment, he stares at the empty ice tray.

Whatever.

Adopting a neutral face, he returns to Keith and wordlessly offers him the tray. Keith takes one look at the empty tray, and it takes a second, but when he processes that it's _empty_ , he glares up with his one good eye.

"What the fuck?"

This cracks the impassivity on Lance's face, and he shatters, laughter wheezing loud and high pitched. Pressing the tray into Keith's hands, he snorts out, "No more ice, man."

"Peas? Frozen vegetables? Anything else other than this?" Keith holds up the tray, smacking Lance's arm hard enough that he jumps back, choking on another bubble of laughter.

"Not even. Our fridge is the epitome of 'broke' right now," he chuckles, moving forward to sit next to him on the couch. Gently, he pries the ice tray from his hands and lifts it to slowly press against the blue-black skin. Keith hisses at the action and reflexively pulls away.

"Here, it's best that you do it," Lance hands it off and stands, "Don't want that pretty face to scar." They both freeze, and Keith starts, "Wha—?"

"I'll be right back," Lance blurts, sprinting away, and nearly plants his face on the ground when he trips over the small coffee table. He manages to escape to his room unscathed after the blunder and sits on the edge of his bed, trying to force the blush on his face back down. Burying his face into his hands, he groans, fisting his hair.

"Could've saved yourself, and what do you do? You run. Great going. Smooth," he mutters, dragging his hands down his face and heaving a sigh. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," he repeats. There's smooth Lance, who can charm the ladies (Pidge strongly disagrees) with a smile and finger guns, and there's _smooth Lance_ , who embarrasses himself in front of his longtime crush with mortifying force.

The mantra breaks when he hears the front door slam open. Realizing he's spent longer than normal cooped up in his room, he digs through his drawers for his first aid kit and slowly makes his way back to the living room.

Hunk stands at the counter, arms full of groceries, and when he sees Lance, his face perks up, and he tilts his head towards the door, "Hey, can you close the door?" Lance nods, pointedly avoiding Keith's gaze.

"Um, Keith. Why is the ice tray on your face?" Just as the door clicks shut, it bursts open again, slamming Lance's face with force. A string of curses accompanies Pidge's frantic apologizing as he cups his forehead, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. When she's sure that Lance is relatively all right, Pidge maneuvers around him and pauses, narrowing her gaze on the couch.

"Why is the ice tray on your face?"

 

\--

 

Keith falls asleep on the couch, ice tray still sitting on his face. It's no surprise to everyone, especially with the hard week they've all had, and though Lance wants to give him some peace and quiet, he can't resist the urge to snap pictures of him. Pidge is just as merciless, sprinting around the furniture to get different angles as she cackles like the gremlin she is. Hunk just shakes his head at their antics.

By the time Keith wakes from his impromptu nap, the two of them have multiple photos crammed on their phones. Pidge, for blackmail, and Lance, for—he's not entirely sure.

"So what happened?" Pidge asks, draping herself over the back of the couch so that she can see the bruise. Lance joins her, "Yeah, you never said."

Keith grunts as he removes the tray, and Lance whistles, "That's a shiner." A sharp elbow digs at his ribs, and he yelps.

"Who even says that anymore?" Pidge huffs, and rubbing his side, Lance pouts at her.

"Some dick thought I was hitting on his girlfriend. She just dropped her stuff, and I was helping her pick up all her things, and he just suddenly accuses me of trying to 'steal his girl', and voila," he gestures down his body. Lance's eyes trail the motion. Pidge slides off and when she lands on her feet, she yelps, "Hunk! It's nearly six! We're gonna be late for the meeting!" They both scramble for their stuff and throw rushed goodbyes at the pair. Then they're left in silence.

"Meeting?" Keith trails off. Lance shrugs, "I think it's the engineer thing they have on Fridays. All right—" Keith's barely able to pull his legs away when Lance vaults himself over onto the seat next to him.

"Hold out your hands, space cadet." Keith raises a brow, and when he doesn't move, Lance heaves an exaggerated sigh, reaching over to pull his hands onto his lap. Gingerly, he wipes away the dried blood, taking attentive care not to scrub too hard at the raw skin. Setting his hands back onto his lap, he grabs the roll of bandages and wraps the white gauze around each of Keith's palms.

A sharp intake of breath steals his attention, and Lance peeks through his lashes to meet Keith's flustered gaze. His cheeks are tinted a pale shade of pink as he averts his eyes the moment Lance glances at him. Cute.

Lance chuckles, squinting to inspect his work, "Ok, and—" He flips the hands, letting his thumbs graze across his palms, "Done!" Then he promptly leans down to press his lips against the gauze.

When he lifts his head, Keith's face is burning a bright shade of scarlet, and Lance starts to feel the beginnings of an equally fierce blush rise to his cheeks.

"Um," he fumbles, and he pushes Keith's hands away, "I used to do that for my nieces and nephews, and—oh, who am I kidding?" Lance sits up, straightening his back. Pidge and Hunk aren't here, and they're alone. He's long accepted he'd been 'pining,' courtesy of Pidge and Hunk, and now it's accumulated to a point where Lance is sure he'll burst with a love-filled declaration if he holds it in any longer. And he _so_ does not want that to happen.

"Listen," he cards his fingers through his hair and clears his throat, "are you busy Saturday night next week?" Keith tilts his head to the side, hair bobbing with the movement, and Lance swallows heavily. Then he shakes his head, and Lance feels his heart seize up. This is it. This is the hard part.

"Can I take you somewhere? Date-wise, I mean."

Keith's eyes are blown wide, and his mouth falls open in surprise. Lance sits back, shoulders hunching, and Keith just _keeps staring_. Oh god, oh god, code red, abort while you still can.

"Whoa, wow," Lance holds up his empty wrist, internally wincing, "will you look at the time? I have stuff finish. Like that paper, right?" He stands, stretching upwards, but before he can pivot on his heel and fucking book it, Keith lunges forward, awkwardly fumbling at Lance's hands, "Wait! Wait, you just caught me off guard!"

He nearly rolls off the couch, and Lance immediately swoops down, gripping his forearms to steady him.

"Dude! Careful," Lance chastises, pulling him back onto the soft surface. Keith flops back, sinking into old leather.

"Then don't try to run!"

"I wasn't running!"

"Oh, yeahhh, 'that paper'. Lance, we're in the middle of break. There's no school."

"Yeah, well," he splutters, lifting both arms, "some of us have things to do."

"Like plan our date next week?"

"Exactl—wait, what?"

 

 

5.

"It's eleven. The building's locked," Keith hisses through his teeth, and Lance smirks, waving a hand behind him to shush the other. He digs through his pocket, and when his hands feel nothing save for his phone, his heart nearly stops.

"Give me a second," he hisses back and starts to search through his jacket pockets. Feeling the smooth plastic against his fingers, he heaves a sigh of relief, pulling it out and waving it at Keith's face.

"See? I've got this. I'm always prepared." Sliding the card through the scanner, they both hold a bated breath. When the light flickers to green, Lance throws a confident grin over his shoulder and ignores the returning scoff aimed at him. He pulls open the door and gestures through, "Ladies first, or well, Keith." The other scowls at him without malice and enters the dimmed building.

Lance follows closely behind and places his hands on Keith's shoulders, steering him towards the elevator. When they turn the corner, they freeze. As does the security guard.

"What are you kids doing here?" Lance can feel Keith stiffen under his fingers, and he literally starts to radiate tension.

"Uh—"

"We're in Dr. Coran's astronomy lab, and he asked us to meet him." Lance interrupts Keith, cutting him off. The guard turns his attention to Lance, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at him.

"At eleven? In the middle of break." The story is starting to sound less and less believable, but he can get them out of this, he hopes.

Lance nods, holding up the card, "Otherwise we wouldn't have been able to get in. You can ask him if you'd like, though he's probably sleeping in his office right now." Just as he finishes his sentence, the elevator sounds and the doors slide open, revealing the man himself. Lance feels his heart sink, and he senses that Keith is about to bolt.

"Dr. Coran, these boys say you asked them to meet with you?" The professor looks surprised as he eyes the two boys. Lance throws him his best pleading look and juts out his lower lip into a pout for effect.

"Why yes," the professor says slowly, and all three of them freeze in surprise, "I asked my students to come today since the sky tonight is clear. My mistake, Thace. I should have informed you. Come along, boys."

Thace eyes them warily and then shrugs, "As long as I know now," and he continues down the hall.

Lance is the first to thaw, so he gives Keith a light push and they both crowd into the elevator with Coran. When the doors slide shut, the professor turns to them.

"You're lucky it wasn't Sendak patrolling tonight. He would've probably called the authorities on you two." Lance smiles gratefully and drapes himself over the shorter boy, who, for once, doesn't protest.

"Thanks Coran."

The man only raises a brow, but his look is fond and he asks, "I've had almost three years to get used to your shenanigans, Lance. Tell me, do I want to know what you're planning now?"

His smile turns sheepish, and he gestures towards Keith, "This is my friend, Keith."

Coran's eyes brighten with recognition, "Ah! The boy who believes the moon landing was faked."

"Hey!"

"Exactly."

The elevator pings again, and the doors open to the eleventh floor.

"Well, if you're here to prove him wrong, don't let me stop you," Coran winks at them and exits with a flourish of his hand. When the doors slide shut again, Lance extracts himself from Keith and hits the button for the fourteenth floor.

"I've had him literally every semester. Man practically sleeps in the building. I'm pretty sure he only goes home to change clothes and that's it." Keith huffs a laugh, and Lance can see that the tension has slowly ebbed from his body.

"I can't believe you told him I didn't believe in the moon landing."

"That's cause you don't."

"Still!"

The telltale ping of the elevator stalls the conversation, and the doors slide open to reveal a dimly lit hall. Quick to scan the area for any stray guards, Lance steps out first, and when he's sure no one else is on the floor, he turns back and grabs onto Keith's hand, pulling him forward.

"Come on, we're almost there." He leads them down the hall and stops in front of a door. Detaching himself from Keith, Lance pulls out his phone and turns on the flashlight. Then he holds out a hand, "It's gonna be dark, so grab on." Hesitantly, Keith intertwines their fingers, and Lance feels the giddiness resonate through his bones.

He gently tugs him onto the darkened staircase and heads up, digging around his pocket to extract a key. Unlocking the door, he turns to give Keith a brilliant smile.

"We're here."

Then he pushes open the door to reveal a clear, velvet night dotted with a wide expanse of stars, endless—limitless. Tonight, they're more luminous than Lance has even seen them. A festival of lights that dance and flicker in the infinite fortress of midnight velvet. Keith takes a step out, eyes illuminated by the sight above him.

To Lance, the galaxies shine brighter when they're reflected in those violet eyes.

"This is," Keith breathes, "amazing." A new rush of excitement bubbles up in Lance's chest, and they both move farther onto the rooftop. He makes a small noise of agreement.

"Is this where you disappear to at night sometimes? How do you even have access?" Keith asks, head still tilted upwards. Lance shrugs, turning to watch the other boy.

"I come here whenever I think of home. Or just whenever, to be honest. And Coran gave me a key. He found me trying to pick the lock one night, and well," he gestures around, "this happened. Come on."

He sits on the concrete and makes no effort to move when Keith situates himself so that their thighs brush. There's a sense of familiarity in the situation, yet Lance feels a keen awareness of the novel emotions that flutter in his gut. It's not as if he's never been close to Keith before, but the situation calls for a different set of social cues because this is a _date_.

 _"Dude, just act normal."_ Hunk's words ring loud and clear in his mind accompanied with Pidge's, _"Yeah, you were basically a couple before. This is no different."_ It's not that simple. Of course, things feel similar to how they were before, but there's a new awareness to every move, every word whispered between the two. He's much more self-conscious about his actions. But so is Keith, if his newfound shyness towards Lance's affections offers any indication.

A light breeze ruffles his hair, and even from far above, they can hear the trees rustle their leaves, the sound echoing through the empty campus. Though it's almost spring, the ghost of winter's chill sends goosebumps up his exposed skin, and Lance is suddenly glad he wore his jacket.

Keith, on the other hand, left his cropped jacket back at their apartment. He shivers, crossed arms coming up to rub some semblance of warmth onto his body. Before he knows it, Lance is shrugging off his jacket, and he drapes it over Keith. Violet eyes leave the sky and focus on him.

"No, Lance, it's ok. I'm not that—"

"Take it. I'm wearing long sleeves anyway." He pulls at the ends of his sleeves for emphasis, and Keith knows well enough that Lance's stubbornness is legendary, so he hesitantly slides his arms through the holes, allowing the rest of the jacket to swathe the front of his body.

He's still slightly shivering. Lance knows firsthand how cold the wind can get from such a high altitude, and he starts to feel the effects himself.

"Don't move," he says and scoots back, ignoring Keith's inquiring brow raise. Then he moves to the side and loops his arms around Keith's waist, pulling him snug between his legs. The other boy relaxes instantly, melting into Lance's embrace, and he sighs, tilting his head up to gaze at the scenery. His hair tickles the bottom of Lance's chin as he rests his head on top of the shorter boy.

Another breeze passes by, and Lance can feel Keith shiver slightly in his arms. Rather than tug him forward, Lance pulls back, burying his nose into inky strands and moves down until his forehead is pressed against the back of his head.

"Lance?" Keith's tone is curious. He answers by tilting his head forward and pressing his lips against the nape of his neck. He stills underneath the touch, and Lance only slides his head to the side to hook his chin over Keith's shoulder.

"Sorry?" he offers. Immediately, Keith shakes his head, "No, no. You just caught me by surprise." Then he says in a much more subdued tone, "I liked it."

"Not too shabby for a first date, huh," Lance says.

Keith scoffs, "I'll one-up you later."

He responds by tightening his arms around his waist, "Sure you will, mullet."

 

 

_+1_

He's exhausted. Lance fumbles as he attempts to slot the key into place, and when he finally does, he twists it, only for it to get caught.

"What." Narrowing his eyes, he yanks it out and tries again, only to have it stop when he twists. In a fit of frustration, he doesn't notice someone creeping in on him until they're right there, so when a hand comes to shove his away, he lets loose a slight scream.

"Calm down," Pidge huffs, and she shoves her key into the hole. He watches as the door unlocks.

"Why is my key defective?" he whines, following behind her. She shrugs, dropping her backpack onto the ground.

"Maybe it's cause you were using the wrong key?"

"I was not—" He glances down to see his house key clenched tightly between his thumb and forefinger. How is she _always_ right? Sometimes he's convinced she's either from another planet or is hiding an all seeing third eye from the world.

"Mhmm," she hums, those sly, knowing eyes sliding over to him. Yup, it's times like these where he's completely sure she has that eye.

"Yo, Lance, is that you?" Hunk calls from the kitchen, and he pushes pass Pidge and flicks her off. She responds by sticking her tongue out at him. Dropping his own bag onto the ground, he maneuvers around small piles of books and unfinished gadgets.

"Hey," he greets, and to his surprise, Hunk isn't alone. Keith sits on the counter, watching Hunk whisk away at another creation.

"What are you doing here?" Lance asks, cocking his brow.

"I live here?"

He rolls his eyes. Yes, he knows. The thing is, Hunk had banned Keith from the kitchen after an unfortunate incident involving the fire department when they had all started living together. It's something they never bring up now, the both of them shutting down the topic immediately when questioned.  

"No shit, Sherlock. What I mean is, why are you in the kitchen?" Keith makes no effort to move from the counter, instead, swinging his legs and letting the heels of his feet knock against the wood.

"Well, Watson, Hunk is trying out a new recipe, and I have nothing to do."

"As long as he doesn't touch anything, he's allowed to loiter," Hunk affirms, pouring the batter into a pan. Then he gingerly picks it up and tilts it one way and then another, letting it even out. Lance moves forward to peek over his shoulder, and to his delight, he recognizes the signs of thick brownie batter.

"What's different about these?" he asks, and Hunk swats at his hand as he attempts to poke a finger into the batter for a taste.

"You'll see." Then he slides the pan into the oven and sets the timer, "Don't touch anything, guys. I'll know." They don't doubt him. And as Hunk leaves the area, he turns, using his pointer and middle finger to point at his own eyes before directing it between Lance and Keith, both of whom hold up their hands in surrender.

As soon as he's gone, Lance moves toward Keith, situating himself between his legs and letting his forehead fall against Keith's shoulder. A hand smoothes his hair down, and he sighs at the repetitive motion.

"Long day?"

"The longest. I hate group projects," Lance whines, the sound muffled by Keith's shirt, and he can feel him nod in agreement. They stay in that position for a bit, Keith mindlessly stroking the back of his head. It's nice, a definite reprieve from countless hours of frustration and stress.

"Do you want to talk about it?" The question is offered awkwardly, and Lance smothers a laugh, hiding his smile in the soft fabric. Oh Keith. Beautiful, socially awkward, caring Keith. His heart swells with happiness, and he presses closer, letting his hands rest against his boyfriend's hips.

"Nyma and Rolo haven't started the paper at all. They just keep coming up with bull excuses, and I swear, at one point, they left the library to go hook up. Plaxum and I were the only ones who had finished our parts, so at least half of it is over. We only need the other half, and then we can finally turn it in," he huffs, tightening his grip on Keith's hips, the frustration evident in his tone.

The other boy moves from stroking his hair to carding through the strands, a quiet action of comfort. It helps, and Lance can feel the tension drain from his shoulders.

"When is it due?" The question is enough to invite the stress back, and Lance groans deeply, moving up to nuzzle into the crook of his boyfriend's neck. Keith readjusts his hold, letting his arms hang loosely around his shoulders.

"That's the thing," he sighs, "It was due a week ago. But Plaxum had a family emergency, so the professor extended our deadline. And now, we're behind." He lifts his head, "Murder me, Keith. End my misery."

Instead, Keith just raises a brow, "Does it have to be murder? I can think of other ways to end misery."

"I don't feel like debating whether Mothman exists or not," Lance says, quirking his mouth into a small smile. Keith rolls his eyes and plants his hands on Lance's shoulders, leaning down to press his lips against his smile.

It catches Lance off guard, and his eyes widen before closing instinctively. The kiss is slow, a direct contrast to his sudden, hummingbird-like heartbeat. Lance moves closer, using his grip on Keith to drag him forward until their chests are pressed up against each other. He can feel Keith's heart beating rapidly—or maybe that's his own, he's not sure nor does he care, and Keith's breath is warm as it mingles with his. It's soft, unhurried. And it's Lance's favorite type of kiss.

They gradually break away, and Lance opens his eyes just in time for ocean blue to meet a burning shade of violet. Keith's face is tinted a pale shade of pink, but his lips curl to form a shy smile, and he leans his forehead against Lance's. It's so unfair how such a simple sight is enough to send Lance's heartbeat skyrocketing into the deep recesses of space.

One day, Keith Kogane will be the death of him—Lance is absolutely, one hundred percent sure.

And yet, he wouldn't have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> I had cavities by the time I finished writing this fic.
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://quiznaksicles.tumblr.com)


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